He took her hand, kissed it, and then left.
The trip to the castle wasn’t long, though scaling the outer wall, sneaking past the guards, climbing up to one of the higher windows, and then stealthily descending to Gerand’s room took more time than he’d prefer. Probably should have made the advisor meet him at the front gates, he thought. Would have saved him the time and trouble.
When he slipped inside, Gerand looked ready for him. He smiled at his entrance, but Haern saw the way his eyes darted about, and how the edges of his smile quivered. The man was nervous, but he didn’t think it was because he’d set a trap. No doubt he felt the eyes of every guild upon him, plus the anger of the Trifect.
“What were their responses?” Haern asked, having no time to waste.
“I’ve received an answer from everyone but the Ash Guild and James Keenan. With him down in Angelport, there’s no way he might give an answer, and no keeper of his estate here would dare agree to something like this without confirmation.”
“Don’t worry about the Ash Guild. I have their answer. Keenan will fall in line when the other two Trifect leaders agree. Tell me, have any said yes?”
“The Wolf Guild will, but only if Thren agrees as well. If the Spider Guild doesn’t fall in line, though, they’ll deny ever saying so.”
“Is that it?”
Gerand licked his lips. “The Serpent Guild’s man said they’d rather kiss the asses of a thousand corpses than the Trifect’s. The Hawks fired an arrow over our wall, a cloth tied to the shaft with the word ‘Never’ written in blood upon it. Leon Connington’s advisor sent a letter saying they were open to negotiations, but not under such conditions. Lady Gemcroft’s response was cryptic. I received a letter from her saying you’d have to kill her, while her advisor came by later insisting she might change her mind given time. As for the Spider Guild…”
He gestured to a package waiting beside his bed. Haern opened it to find a severed head, eyes and mouth sewn shut.
“Who is it?” he asked, frowning.
“Look closer.”
He did, saw the gray hair, thin nose, and most noticeably, a fresh cut running from the head’s left eye to its ear. Haern glanced back at the advisor and saw a similar, albeit faded, scar on his face. He felt a pang of guilt, and he wondered who the poor guy had been.
“Intimidation,” Haern said. “Don’t fall for it. I won’t let them get to you.”
“How?” asked Gerand, exasperated. “There are five guilds, and three leaders of the Trifect. Three of the guilds, and two of the Trifect, have denied you. Can you kill them all? I might be better off having you killed instead, and letting them fight amongst themselves.”
Haern narrowed his eyes, and the advisor immediately retracted his comment.
“Forgive me, I’m stressed, and have had more to drink than I probably should. How will I know if you succeed?”
“They’ll come tell you,” Haern said, turning to leave. “Oh, and escort me out, will you? I don’t have time to mess around with your guards.”
“Sure,” said Gerand. “Why not? A king’s advisor and an assassin, side by side as friends. I’ve suffered through stranger.”
They walked through the halls toward the castle’s exit, and several times Gerand had to calm soldiers who saw Haern’s cloaks and sabers and immediately assumed the worst. At the giant doors, Gerand grabbed his arm and pulled him close.
“Be careful who you kill first,” he said. “If you fail, but still strike down the leaders of either side, you will unbalance everything. You must succeed in this, Watcher.”
“If I unbalance things, at least you’ll finally have a winner,” Haern said, grinning. “And I don’t plan on dying. I’ll visit you come the morning. I promise.”
He flew down the streets, his legs pumping. His eyes darted every which way, knowing that the guilds would be prepared for his arrival. For the longest time he’d only been a phantom to them, but now they’d heard his promise. This was their chance. Deathmask had asked him if he was insane. Perhaps he was. But at least Deathmask had also seemed to understand. If he were to try, why not try for the impossible?
He decided the first ones to visit would be the Hawks. They were no friends of the Spider Guild, and their recent conflict with both them and the mercenaries had surely devastated their numbers. Their leader, Kadish Vel, was a sensible enough man, bit of a gambler. If Haern could convince him to give the treaty a chance, especially as a way to diminish Thren’s danger to him, then he should be able to win over the guild’s cooperation without having to kill its leader.
The Hawk Guild’s headquarters had shifted several times, but even after Thren’s attack, they’d refused to move from their current tavern. No doubt Kadish was tired of running. They’d emptied out during the mercenaries’ rampage, but with the night turning quiet, he felt certain they’d return. With the strange threat of the Watcher hanging over them all, they’d want to be where they felt safe, where they recognized every face, knew every shadow, every entrance. If he was lucky, they would think it all a bluff, or even an opportunistic lie of the king in an attempt to save face before his furious populace. Still, their eyes would be open even if they doubted. Nothing that night would be easy. If he had to open up with a stealthy kill, he would, conversation be damned. Dead bodies spoke clearer than anything else in the world of thieves. He’d given them their warning.
Two men stood at the entrance, obviously on the lookout. The one on the left looked bored, as if he’d drawn the short straw that night. The other was older and more aware. Haern drifted along on the left, hunched over, limping, and muttering to himself as if he’d had too much to drink. Neither Hawk gave him a second glance. Once out of their sight, Haern walked closer, a hand leaning against the tavern as if he needed it for balance. Upon reaching the back, he saw a door, most certainly locked and barred. He tested it just to make sure. No lock, but it was bolted. A veritable army of feral cats lurked about, and one hissed at his presence as it hunkered down over a scrap of fat.
“You’re right,” Haern whispered to the feline. “I should wait my turn, shouldn’t I?”
The alley was thin, dark, and full of places to hide. Ten minutes later, he heard a thud from the other side of the door, and then it creaked open.
“Enjoy,” said a burly man, chucking a bucket of what seemed to be a mixture of vomit and woodchips. The mess splattered onto the stone, and in leapt the cats, there to hiss and growl while they searched for something edible. When the man’s back was turned, Haern stepped from his hiding spot, jumped into the opening, and flung his arms around his neck. A quick jerk and he fell, his scream muffled by Haern’s palm.
“Sleep well,” he whispered, slipping inside.
Haern stepped inside a storeroom, cramped and occupied almost entirely by the two shelves on either side. The man he’d knocked out wasn’t the barkeep, one of the few things that might allow him to remain hidden. Already he heard the raucous drinkers at the front, and they would not tolerate any sort of absence by the man supplying their liquor. Judging from his size and duty, he’d taken out a heavyhand, someone to deal with those who got out of line. Haern chuckled. Talk about someone that would not be missed by the crowd.
He ducked underneath the lowest shelf, peered out from the door, and was rewarded with the sight of a pair of hairy legs as the barkeep scratched at a scab near his ankle. Rows of bottles stretched before him. He was behind the bar. From his time inside before, he knew there’d be a locked door to his right, blocking off a staircase that led into the lower quarters that the Hawks had enlarged and adopted as their own. Question was, how did he get inside?
As he pressed his back against the wall, an idea came to him. He waited a moment to see if the barkeep noticed the movement, then pressed his elbows against the wall. There was no plaster or paint, just a thin piece of wood. Bracing with his feet, he pressed inward, hoping the laughter and singing might drown out the noise. He pressed harder, every muscle in his legs taut, and then the board gave. Wincing at the noise, he pushed it all the way in until it snapped in half. He worked an arm through, then his head, and finally the rest of his body. When he fell out the other side, he was behind the locked door and inside the small staircase leading to a second door.
Haern drew his sabers, thrilled by the way they handled. Senke had given him a fine gift. Hopefully he’d put them to good use. The time for stealth was over. He tested the door, found it unlocked, and then kicked it in. As the loud crack echoed in the room, he leapt inside, already searching for his first victim. There were four men inside, sitting at a table with cards and wooden chips stacked before them. They shouted and reached for their weapons,
